


I'm not a Terradon…

by NixKat



Category: Storm Hawks
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Thinking, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NixKat/pseuds/NixKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Terr-no, a Raptor reflects on his lot in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not a Terradon…

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I’m not the Nerd who owns Storm Hawks, so please don’t sue.

I am not a Terradon…

…at least… not on Terra Bogaton.

Terradons are mutants, freaks, and aberrations. Brilliant, creative freaks, but freaks nonetheless. Terradons have been rare and persecuted for longer than recorded Bogatonian history. History that was recorded, incidentally, by Terradons under the orders of various chiefs. Beginning since the reign of the current Chief, Terradons are property to be used how the Chief saw fit.

If…if I were a Terradon I could work with machines and crystals to my heart’s content. I could wear glasses or goggles to see better at all the time, not just in private. I wouldn’t have to worry about clipping the growths on my bottom jaw or pretend to enjoy hunting and fighting when I really had no instinct for it.

If I were a Terradon, Repton would also enslave me. My genius would be forced to work on weapons to harm others. I would never be allowed to leave the lab and I would never see my friends or family again.

However, I’m not a Terradon, I can’t be.

No, I’m just your average Bogator—er, Raptor named Chuckk. I use cooking as an outlet for my creativity and I’m good enough at it to cook for the Chief. I’m lucky enough to have an assistant like Hurrl to help out at work, as strange as he is the big Raptor kept quiet about my vision problems and never held it against me. Ralph knew about my inclinations and let me work on her ride and weapons as long as I told no one of her dreams of usurping Repton. That was high treason and grounds for execution if the Chief got wind of it and excellent blackmail material for others. She is a good friend even if she didn’t see it that way. I was an asset to keep away from rivals; if that meant assisting me hunt in our youth, protecting me from bullies and training me how to fight, or backing up my excuses, then so be it.  Not very warm, I know, but for her it’s a lot. I do still have to clip the growths along my jaw no matter how much it hurts or bleeds and I bind my fourth toes to look ‘normal’.

I am not a Terradon, even though sometimes I wish that I were.

I’d have to leave Terra Bogaton first to make that dream come true. I know that it isn’t impossible to escape my home Terra, as impressive as its sensors and defenses are. It’s happened before. However, the chances of me getting away are as likely as Ralph becoming a Sky Knight…

…

…

…

…that gives me an excellent idea.


End file.
